Slice and Dice (30 page)

“But you don’t seem happy, Nathan.”

He held her eyes. “No, I don’t. Funny. Something isn’t working anymore. My carefully constructed system is spinning out of control.” He brushed his fingers across her upper back, but the movement quickly turned into a caress. “It reminds me of a poem I read last night. Do you still read poetry?”

She nodded.

“I was looking through a favorite volume of Yeats, and these lines struck me.” He paused for a moment, then recited: “‘I know that I shall meet my fate/Somewhere among the clouds above/Those that I fight I do not hate/Those that I guard I do not love’.”

“And what does that mean to you?”

“Everything,” he replied simply. “It encapsulates my whole life.”

She didn’t understand.

“You make me happy, Sophie. That’s all you need to know. Just seeing you again has given me hope. I’ve known for quite a while that my life had to change, but I needed some sort of catalyst. I don’t know what I’m going to do exactly, but it can’t be more of the same. The life I’ve been leading is eating me alive. In a few more years, there won’t be anything left to salvage.”

“Nathan, what a thing to say.”

“It’s true. And you’re so beautiful.”

She looked down. “I think you’ve changed the subject again.”

“No, the subject has always been you.” He drew her to him. “I love you, Sophie. I wish I could tell you everything that’s going on in my life. Maybe I can one day soon. But for now you’ve got to trust me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She pulled away. “What’s the problem, Nathan? Be straight with me.”

He ran a hand over his beard, then folded his hands in his lap. “Okay, I’ll give you this much. Remember I told you about Marie Damontraville?”

“The woman writing the biography of your mother.”

He nodded. “I don’t know this for a fact, but I believe she’s on the verge of making some wild accusations. None of it’s true, but once ugly rumors get started, they take on a life of their own.”

“What sort of accusations?”

“I can’t tell you that. Not now. But the story will break one of these days, probably sooner rather than later. I just don’t want you to be confused by it. If you’ve got questions then, come to me. I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t care what the rest of the world thinks, but I do care what you think. I don’t want you hurt by the fallout from this. I have no idea whether or not she plans to include our relationship in the book, but don’t be surprised. I suppose I should stay away from you until all this blows over, but I can’t. I won’t. Not when I’ve just found you again.”

He crushed her against him, kissing her with the same passion she remembered from her youth. “Just be with me for a little while. Then decide.”

Kissing her again, he began to unbutton her blouse.

For Sophie, the moment became a blur of emotion and sensation. As his hands caressed her skin, she felt a rush of pleasure so intense, she almost stopped breathing. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. If she was going to stop him, it was now or never.

Sophie returned home around midnight. Ethel was asleep on her pillow in the bedroom, but Bram wasn’t back yet. Grateful for a few minutes alone, she switched on the light in the bathroom, took off her clothes, and stepped into the shower. She stood in the water and the steam and tried to empty her mind of all emotion, but the clarity she was searching for escaped her. It was late and she was completely worn out. Perhaps tomorrow she’d be able to put what had happened tonight into some kind of perspective. And yet she was almost afraid to think about tomorrow. What would she see when she looked at herself in the mirror?

After drying off, she slipped into her pajamas and climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in the middle of it.

In her effort not to think about Nathan this week, she’d thought of little else. Surely she could get a grip on her emotions now. The worst had finally happened. One way or the other, she had to deal with the aftermath.

Before she bumped into Nathan last Saturday, she hadn’t thought about him in years. Now she needed to get back to that place of comfortable detachment. What was he really but a phantom, a ghost from her past, the projection of a silly, adolescent girl? After tonight, though, she couldn’t deny his hold on her, a hold that was no longer just a memory.

Nathan Buckridge was deeply troubled. And sensing his vulnerability only intensified Sophie’s feelings for him. If only he’d open up to her, tell her what was really bothering him. Arthur had been right about his nephew’s depression. But Sophie felt certain that it was his life, not the chemicals in his brain, that had betrayed him.

“You look upset.”

The sound of Bram’s voice startled her. When she looked up, he was standing in the doorway. What was he reading in her face? What had she done to indicate that something was wrong?

“Bad night?” he asked.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“A few minutes. You look like you just lost your best friend.”

Her expression softened. “You’re my best friend.”

“Well, then, you can stop worrying.” He kicked off his loafers, removed his coat, and crawled onto the bed next to her. “Are you okay?”

“I am now that you’re home.”

A guilty look crossed his face. “Were you worried because I was late? God, I’m sorry, Soph. I should have called.”

She slipped her arm through his, trying not to look guilty herself. “I knew you’d be home sooner or later. I suppose Jerry’s pretty excited about his engagement.”

“Jerry? Yeah.”

“You didn’t drink and drive, did you?”

“We ended up at a bar just up the street. I was close enough so I could walk home.”

“Hey, what’s on your shirt? It looks like soot. Dirt.”

He tried to brush it off. ‘Terrible, isn’t it? We’ve got to find a better laundry.” Easing his arms around her waist, he held her tight. “Soph?” he said after a couple of seconds. “You’ve got to promise me something.”

It felt so good to have his arms around her. “What, honey?”

“You’ve got to promise me that you won’t go near Nathan Buckridge again.”

She tried desperately not to react. “Why would you ask that?”

He drew back, looking at her with an intensity that almost frightened her. “He’s bad news.
Very
bad news. You’ve got to trust me on this one. I can’t explain any more right now.”

“But, honey, he’s staying at the hotel. If I run into him, I can’t ignore him.”

“Sure you can. If he says anything, just tell him you’re nearsighted. Comes with age.”

“Bram?”

“Okay, okay. But don’t be alone with him. Make sure other people are always around.”

“You make it sound like you think he’s dangerous.”

“He’ll be leaving soon, right?”

“I assume so.”

“It can’t be soon enough for me.” After a few more seconds, he looked down at his hands. “You know, Soph, I love our life. Not everyone would appreciate living in a hotel, I suppose, but… it suits us. It’s sort of like… living on an elegant ocean liner.”

“You were thinking, perhaps, the
Titanic?”

“Right era, dear, wrong ship.”

She was relieved at the change in subject. “But I’d say we’re definitely the Nick and Nora Charles type.”

“Again, right era but wrong actor.”

She smiled. “Have I told you recently how great you look in a tuxedo?”

“Actually, I think you compared me to a penguin.”

“I take it all back.”

“Good.” He kissed her softly. “No, this place is perfect for us. We may not have a vine-covered cottage with the picket fence outside, but we’ve got two wonderful restaurants right on the premises, an exercise room we may ignore to our hearts’ content, and room service if we’re too tired to go out.”

“Don’t forget the formal garden between the two wings, suitable for starlit walks. And the fact that our mutt is treated like a queen by the staff and the guests.”

They leaned back against the pillows, considering their good fortune.

“The best part,” said Bram, resting an arm over his head, “is that I get to live with you.”

“That’s the best part for me, too,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Soph?”

“Hmm?”

“You, ah … you don’t have any plans to see Nathan again, do you?”

“No. Let’s not talk about him any more tonight, okay?”

“You probably think I’m just being the jealous-husband type.” He began to play with the gold bracelet on her wrist. “I mean, I’ve got no reason to be jealous of him, do I? I’m still your one and only.”

“You’re my husband,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. Her emotions were so close to the surface tonight. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he said, folding her in his arms. “Sophie, you’re shivering.”

“I’m fine now that you’re home.”

“You really were worried about me, weren’t you? I feel like such a heel.”

“Just hold me.”

“Why don’t I clean up a little first?”

“No.” She held him tight. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

They settled back more comfortably against the pillows.

“God, I love being alone with you,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Sophie closed her eyes. There was nothing she could say.

It was a little tricky, sneaking out of the Maxfield on Thursday morning with two of Marie’s suitcases and her laptop computer without Sophie or anyone in the Buckridge family seeing him, but Bram managed the feat with his usual aplomb. At nine-thirty sharp he stood in front of Marie’s door at the Ardmore and knocked. He had a key, of course, but he felt it wouldn’t be right to just charge in.

The door opened almost immediately. “Ah,” said Marie, smiling at him through her cigarette smoke. She was still wearing the white terry-cloth robe. The remains of her breakfast rested on a cart just inside the door. “If it isn’t Mr. Smith.”

She was making jokes and he was about to drop a suitcase on his foot. “This stuff is heavy, Marie. May I come in?”

“Have I ever denied you anything?”

He shot her a pained look as he lugged it all inside, piling it next to a mahogany desk. “I see your sense of humor survived the evening.”

“Everything but my pride.”

He turned to face her. “You know why I couldn’t stay. I explained before I left.”

“Right. You don’t find me attractive.”

Bram thought her pout, even in jest, was a little tedious. “You’re very attractive. I’m just not in the market for an attractive woman right now. I’m married, and I happen to love my wife.”

“‘Tell me the old, old story … of Jesus and His glory.’“ She crushed out her cigarette, then started to walk into the bedroom.

Bram caught her by the shoulders and turned her around. “Listen to me for a minute. You said last night that you wanted something more in your life. That you envied people who lived in vine-covered cottages with white picket fences. Well, that’s where I live, Marie. Not literally, but in my heart, that’s what it feels like. I don’t mean to hurt you, but I already have what you’re looking for. You’re one hell of a sexy woman, I won’t deny that, and I wish you the best of luck finding a guy to share your life, but it won’t be me. Even the best relationships are fragile. If you care about me at all, you wouldn’t want to mess with mine.”

“So now I’m a home wrecker.”

“No, of course not. But if I’d let you seduce me last night, I’d be the home wrecker, and I could never live with myself if I hurt Sophie that way, if I made a fool out of her by sleeping around behind her back.”

She stared at him for a moment, then gave him a hug. “Why are all the good men taken?”

“They aren’t. You’ll see.”

Drawing back, she turned her face away from him and walked over to check on the suitcases. “I hope you brought the right clothes.”

“Everything that was on the list. If it wasn’t on the list, it’s still back at the Maxfield.”

She eyed him for a moment, examining him from head to foot. “God, but I love the way you dress. Yesterday it was tweed. Today it’s a gorgeous cashmere blazer. You wear clothes, Baldric, the way some men wear their muscles.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Did you bring my journal?”

“Under the red sweater.” He waited with the bad news until she’d finished her search. When she looked up and saw the expression on his face, she said, “What? Something’s wrong.”

He handed her a sheet of typing paper. “It was on the floor of your room back at the Maxfield, pushed under the door.”